Random ramblings from the Texan in London.

It's taken me a while to sit down to write this, the previous drama happened on the Friday afternoon before my kids were off school for a week.  It was... busy. After my last post, which was partly to share and partly because if I don't record details in the moment they get lost forever to the ether in my brain, I spent the evening in helpless tears.  This unnerved Himself to the point that he offered to try and call someone on my behalf.  Anyone who knows Himself knows that he hates making phone calls, to the point that when we first got together he made me place all takeaway orders.  *lol*  He has graduated to calling the local Indian, but he's still not a fan. Of course, there was nobody he could call that I couldn't have called (or had already called) myself, and I don't know if anyone would have even spoken to him in the first place.  The offer was still appreciated. The weekend passed, and I continued to take my pills in the hope that I'd find a solu

This afternoon, I had a meeting with my now-ex psychiatrist.  That should give you a hint about how well it went. On our last visit, in the context of an update on my life and what I'd been dealing with since we last met, I repeated something to her that my husband said to me in an argument.  On that basis, she changed my meds from one I was doing really well on to one that made me want to throw myself under a bus.  Literally.  After a couple of days on the new medication, I was more than aware that all was not well and started attempting to speak to my doctor.  Four days later, I finally got a response from her.  At this point, I had already stopped taking the meds that made me want to crawl into a hole and stay there.  She agreed to put me back on the meds I hadn't wanted to stop taking in the first place, but it took her almost a week to get the prescription to me. Unmedicated me is not fun.  Unmedicated me bounces off walls, is uncontrollably impulsive, and is physicall

On Friday of last week, I received a letter in the post that sparked hope and joy.  Dude had been referred for ADHD assessment back in September, and we'd been waiting for an appointment since then.  The letter, the glorious letter, was that appointment.  The time frame?  Today. !!! Yes, three days notice.  I rearranged work and volunteering commitments, because let's face it, we weren't going to miss it after waiting three months.  I grabbed Dude from the school at the appropriate time and we trundled off to Hayes to the address we'd been given. From the minute I sat down, I knew this wasn't going to be the first step in the right direction to getting the man child some help.  There were two women in the room, one an ADHD nurse and one a consultant psychiatrist.  The latter took the reins, and it all went downhill from there. I was asked why there was any suspicion that Dude has ADHD.  I answered with "three years of documentation from the school, the

This year.  This year has been... dramatic. I've had a cancer scare, with biopsies and a procedure to remove the face of my cervix.  I've had huge issues with Dude's development and behaviour as a (let's face it) ADHD boy child.  We're still on the wait list for his assessment, hoping to hear something next month.  I've had mum guilt over whether Madam is getting enough attention having to share me with Dude and his chaos.  I've had wife guilt over the state of the house and our lives in general.  I've had a change of ADHD medication which involved going cold turkey from my old meds, and added to that I've had to stop my antidepressants at the same time to start the new meds because the combination can cause serotonin syndrome (palpitations, sweats, anxiety, shakes).  The second week on the new meds I got the flu.  Last Monday I was stopped at a red light after dropping the kids off from school and got hit from behind by a car going 30mph.  Our car

We had our first brush with Big Brother this week. I should have seen it coming, really.  The amount of craziness that stems from Dude really should have prepared me for it.  I mean, he's been in enough trouble at school that I've been dealing with the Head since he was in reception.  When he was four.  Four. Still, getting the phone call from the school to let me know he'd triggered a safeguarding warning caught me off guard.  For those of you who have the luxury of not knowing what that means, he said something at school that raised concerns regarding his safety or wellbeing either in the school environment or the home environment. It wasn't at school. The call came at the end of a truly hideous week, on the heels of a pretty rough start to the school year in general.  Dude had caused a building lockdown on Monday by leaving the classroom without telling anyone, and then hiding.  Hiding.  Four members of staff, including the Head, had to hunt for him.  Because

It’s been a while since my last post.  It’s for many reasons, let’s just say “life”. The bratlets are changing at a rate of crazy.  Dude is getting sincerely entertaining with his weirdness, little dances with shooting fingers as he exits a room backwards, things like that.  Madam has developed a wide streak of sarcasm, which warms the cockles of my salty little heart.  They’re the same size now, which confuses Himself no end as he can’t tell which clothes belong to which kid.  I regularly get asked about my twins. Speaking of Himself, the man is only getting better with age.  He’s back at karate (and yes, it’s sexy as hell) as Dude wanted to give it a go, and I’m currently typing from the hall as all three of my little family punch at the air.  That’s right, after months of seeing the boys head off to karate, Madam is trying out her first lesson as we speak. As far as myself, I’ve had a hard time lately.  I had a bit of a cancer scare, which sounds super overdramatic, but